


Aesthetically

by LydianNode



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is so naïve, Frian, Gen, Language, M/M, mention of rough sex, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 04:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode/pseuds/LydianNode
Summary: Brian is worried about Freddie on tour."The men you like. They all look so much taller than you. Broader. I mean, almost everyone is bigger around than you are, but these blokes seem, I don't know—""Bears."Brian blinks. "Pardon?""That's what they're called, the men I like. Opposites attract, and all that.""Some of them look like they could snap you in two," continues Brian, looking away from Freddie. "We worry sometimes. Rog and Deacy and I."





	Aesthetically

**Author's Note:**

  * For [royaltyisshe64](https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyisshe64/gifts).



> This little piece of fluff is for @royaltyisshe64 - Happy Birthday, Darling!

(On tour, 1976)

"How does it work?"

Freddie stops in the middle of removing his brocade jacket and turns around to look at Brian. "I tried to be quiet, darling," he says apologetically. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

Brian sits up against the headboard of his bed and fumbles around until he manages to turn on the bedside lamp. His eyes are clear but a bit unfocused from the late hour. He yawns. "You didn't. Still wound up from the show, I guess."

"Mmm." Freddie slips out of the jacket and carefully hangs it up in the tiny hotel closet, then turns his back to Brian and shimmies out of the tight leather pants. They squeak a bit. "That wasn't me," he declares over his shoulder, and Brian's answering chuckle warms his heart. 

They are always roommates on tour. Post-concert Roger is too highly strung; sharing a room with him is like trying to nap inside a pinball machine. John's piercing gaze feels judgmental on nights like this, when Freddie comes back hours after the others. Brian is simpler, the calm after the storm. 

Usually.

It's not until Freddie has slipped between crisp hotel bed sheets that he remembers Brian's question. "Wait. How does what work?" Freddie inquires, hoping against hope that he has misunderstood.

But this is Brian, who crafts words with the same meticulousness as his solos. "I've thought about it but I can't understand how it works, not with two men."

Freddie turns his head in time to witness a rarity: Brian is blushing, trying to conceal his embarrassment behind pillow-mussed ringlets.

Of all the times not to have his Polaroid at hand, Freddie muses as he turns over and props himself up on one arm. His heart is fluttering. "Is your interest scientific, prurient, or..." He has to take a shuddering breath before he can continue with the most frightening thought. "...or disgusted?"

Please. Not that.

Brian blinks rapidly, the way he always does when he's thinking about what someone else has said. "Fred, I told you ages ago that I don't care." He sits up a bit more, long arms looped around his shins. The sheets have pulled up on one side and Freddie can see a couple of long, pale toes peeking out.

"Then why the sudden intellectual curiosity?"

"Because it's something you care about, and I want to understand. You always ask me about astronomy, and you listen so carefully even when I'm talking about something terribly arcane. This...I mean...liking men...it means a lot to you. So I should try to understand you."

The comparison is so ridiculous that Freddie wants to laugh, but the candour in Brian's expression stops him. "I should think that the mechanics would be fairly obvious, dear, since you're familiar with the equipment."

That brings another flush to Brian's cheeks, but this time he doesn't try to hide. "It just seems so much more difficult. With two men."

Freddie remembers the smooth slide of his cock into Mary's body, how effortless and yet unsatisfying the sensation was. He grins at Brian. "Some things are worth having to work for."

"Yes, but, you know...aesthetically...it's..."

A double red-letter night: Brian blushing AND at a loss for words.

Raising an eyebrow, Freddie asks, "Aesthetically? Haven't you ever knocked at Chrissie's back door?" The shock in Brian's countenance would be funny if it weren't so adorably naïve. Of course not: Brian is too courtly to press a sweet, vanilla girl like Chrissie into something so scandalous. He'd need someone like Mary for that. 

Freddie feels a hint of regret for charming Mary away from Brian in the first place, even though they had nearly burned themselves out by that point. Poor Mary, poor dear girl, taking a leap of faith and landing on a precipice too fragile to hold her.

"Never mind. Forget I said anything," Brian mutters as he puts his hands over his face.

"No, no, it's fine. Of course you're curious; you have a scientific mind and you like your facts to be in order. I didn't mean to scandalise you, truly I didn't." When he hears Brian huff in disbelief, he amends his statement. "Well, I wanted to scandalise you just a tiny bit. You're so fun to tease."

"I'm NOT boring in bed."

"I didn't mean to imply that you were, dear." For an instant Freddie allows his mind to wander as he imagines how intense Brian's eyes might be, or what those long, clever fingers might be able to coax from him. He has to clear his throat before he can speak again. "Anyway, the 'aesthetics' are just fine so long as we remember to wash beforehand, which I always do. Is that sufficient information for you? Or do you want me to describe how divine a prostate massage can be?"

Groaning, Brian leans against the headboard. He bangs his head against the wall once, twice, three times, stopping only when Roger's voice can be heard from the other side, telling him to shut the fuck up.

"Really, Brian, you shouldn't ask questions if you don't want to know the answers." 

"I do!" Brian's voice rises in pitch. "It's just a little uncomfortable. Unknown territory, that sort of thing. I'm not just being nosy."

"Of course not." Freddie mirrors Brian's position, sitting up against the headboard and pulling his knees to his chest. It relaxes the muscles in his lower back and he lets out a tiny, pleased whimper. "Why do I have the feeling that your question was just the tip of the iceberg?"

"Fred—"

"No, really, hit me with what you really want to ask." Freddie prepares himself for questions about lube, or who's on top, but naturally Brian is heading in a completely different direction.

There's a moment of silence so profound that all Freddie can hear is the faint buzzing of the light bulb. Brian's face is pale, a sad downturn to his mouth.

"The men you like. They all look so much taller than you. Broader. I mean, almost everyone is bigger around than you are, but these blokes seem, I don't know—"

"Bears." 

Brian blinks. "Pardon?"

"That's what they're called, the men I like. Opposites attract, and all that."

"Some of them look like they could snap you in two," continues Brian, looking away from Freddie. "We worry sometimes. Rog and Deacy and I."

"That's sweet, but there's no need—"

Brian swings his legs around and gets up, all long pale limbs and, incongruously, Grateful Dead boxer shorts. He kneels next to Freddie's bed. His hand slips over Freddie's and holds tightly.

"Do they hurt you?" he asks.

Ah. That's where this was going. Freddie wants to lie, but he can't bring himself to deceive Brian, not when he's holding his hand and gazing at him with those soft, luminous eyes.

"Sometimes," Freddie answers after a pause. He peers at Brian's face and smiles. "Who's a clever boy, figuring it out?"

He doesn't smile back. His expressive face is cloudy. "It's not clever to notice when you're all bruised up. And sometimes you look like you've been crying."

"Brimi, darling—"  
"Freddie, I'd—"

They stare at one another. Freddie reaches out to tousle Brian's already-tousled hair. "You go first."

Brian's lips tremble but his gaze never falters. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and sighs. Freddie strokes his hair until Brian is ready to try once more.

"It's not right that people hurt you," he murmurs, colour rising on his face once again. "Freddie, I wouldn't ever do that."

He doesn't mean...

Surely not...

Oh.

Slowly, Freddie moves his hand from Brian's hair to his cheek. "Oh, Brian." He shifts in the bed, cupping Brian's face in both hands. "Darling, are you offering yourself to me?" He feels rather than sees Brian's quick nod. "To keep me safe?"

The second nod is slower, more deliberate, and Brian's eyes are sorrowful. "I know I'm not...the kind of man you're looking for."

"Straight?" Freddie inquires, not unkindly.

"Bear."

"No, dear, you're not a bear. More like a gazelle. And a straight one. Don't get me wrong—it's a tempting proposal, or it would be if you were actually gay."

"I could be. I've just never tried."

"Brian, please. You're the straightest man I know. Well, technically, that'd be Deacy, but you're a close second." He leans over and drops a kiss on top of Brian's head. "It's so sweet of you to be worried, but I'm really fine. There's no need to fuss."

Brian turns away. "Well," he begins in a breathy voice, "I've certainly made an arse of myself."

"Darling, no, not at ALL!" Freddie swoops down to hug him. "That was the most beautiful, unselfish thing anyone's ever said to me." He can feel Brian's body against his own, the frame still a little too lean from illness and overwork, and when he looks down he can see the remnants of scars on his arm and abdomen. They'd come so close to losing him, and the memory runs cold. Shivering slightly, Freddie pulls back the covers and pats the empty space next to him. 

"Really? After I've been such a pillock?" Brian whispers, as amazed as an abandoned kitten being offered a warm bowl of milk.

"It's bloody freezing in here, and I want a cuddle. Sooner rather than later, dear, if you can unfold all those legs and join me."

Laughing, Brian clambers up on the bed next to Freddie and they settle the duvet around themselves. Freddie tuts as he holds up Brian's left hand. "Your nails! I'll need to re-do them before the next show." 

"In the morning." Brian stretches as he yawns heavily, and Freddie takes advantage of the opportunity to lay his head just above his collarbone. Brian's arms, slim but strong, wrap protectively around him. "I'm so sorry I did...the weird thing. I won't talk about it any more, okay?"

Freddie tips his head up and nuzzles the underside of Brian's jaw. There's stubble and a hint of vetiver from his aftershave, and the combination makes him feel lightheaded. "You don't need to apologize. I'm flattered that you want to take SUCH good care of me. No one ever has," he adds, sotto voce, but Brian hears him and holds him tighter. 

"I do love you, Freddie. I wish I could be...more. But I can't." Brian's voice carries the weight of regret. "I just want you to be safe, that's all."

"Couldn't be safer than I am right at this moment," Freddie assures him. 

"Hmmm." Brian reaches for the lamp and shuts it off. The room is dark except for a silvery shaft of moonlight that lands on the place where Freddie's hand rests over Brian's generous heart. "G'night, Freddie."

"Sweet dreams, darling." Freddie snuggles closer, smiling as Brian's legs tangle with his. He feels such a surge of love for his friend that, for a moment, he has to blink back tears. Oh, the delights he could show Brian, if only...if only...

"If wishes were horses," he whispers into Brian's neck. Brian's arms tighten around him. There won't be passion between them but Brian will still be holding him in the morning, and Freddie knows when to count his blessings.


End file.
